The Broken Prince of Velaris
by aspentree11
Summary: Everybody knows of the broken spymaster, Azriel, but what made him so broken? Why could he never love Mor as he wished? Why was he so distant, so insecure, so forever lost? Was it really his childhood, or was there more? (Bleh. I'll make the summary better later).


It was Autumn when he first saw her. And she was dying.

His hands had blood painted all over them as he leaned over her, trembling. He didn't know how he found her – or even why. He just had a _feeling_. It was absolutely absurd, he told himself only an hour earlier, to get out of his bed in the dead of night just because he felt… _odd_. Uncomfortable. Strange. He should just go back to bed and sleep it off, he had told himself. But instead he began pulling on his trousers and grabbing a black tunic from his bedroom floor. He paced in his room for a few minutes time, trying to push away the bizarre tingling that was taking over his body, but all he could think about was the smell of the forest. The feeling of crunching leaves underneath his feet. The cooing of owls and the light, chilly breeze. All he could see was a forest, touching it and smelling it and hearing it despite not even being four feet away from his own bed. Incapable of fighting the undying feeling of the green world, he raced out of the country house, trying his best not to wake the others.

His feet led the way through the trees and as he scurried around the darkness that inhibited the forest, he could smell something. It hit him so hard that he flinched back, making him stumble. It was strong, nauseating. Something metallic. _Blood._ But it was peculiar because he knew, _just knew_ , that the smell wasn't coming from nearby. It was from far away, his senses told him. The blood was far away. How could he smell it then? He didn't know. It was probably an animal, he told himself, it was probably just a hunter's trail. But the tingling that had spread across his body was getting worse as the metallic smell filled his nostrils and the desperation to get there heightened. Where? He couldn't put his tongue on it. A place, a part of him decided. And that was the place he needed to go

After he had traveled miles and miles away, the trees began to disappear and finally, he got to a clearing. He looked up at the bright moon, panting. His feet had stopped and his eyes looked around, entirely lost now that his feet were no longer leading him instinctively. The tingling feeling had vanished right when he had stepped foot into the clearing and the metallic smell was no longer in his nose. As he gazed around the open grasses, he felt completely stupid. Why was he running to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night? Had he truly gone mad?

He turned away from the clearing slowly, walking back towards the trees and about to succumb to the darkness once again but then -

" _Help_." He stopped. He didn't turn around, but he still stopped. He took in a ragged breath, listening. He was known for that – hearing and seeing the things that a normal Fae couldn't. He could feel someone's arrow before it even launched into the air, or hear the inaudible whispers of tortured victims that weren't in front of him. He was abnormal, but still not this abnormal. Not waking up in the middle of the night and being-pulled-into-a-clearing-miles-away-from-his-home-abnormal.

He lifted his foot up, about to take another step towards the trees and out of the clearing but then he heard, quite clearly, "Please." With one swift motion he turned around. He reached for his belt instinctively but then cursed. He had forgotten to take his weapon with him, he realized. An anonymous source had pulled him into a forest and yet he forgot his own weapon? What kind of sloppy Illyarian was he? But still, quietly, he inched towards the voice.

"Who are you?" He demanded, his voice far from sympathetic. The grasses were to his knees by the time he made it to the middle of the clearing and the darkness between the grasses was pitch black even under the full moon.

"Vienna." And then he could hear the source. He took a forty-five degree turn and then two large strides. He arched back his arm, ready to fight, but then his eyes dropped to the space below him, laying straight in the grass. There, dissolved in the darkness.

It was a girl.

 _She_ was a girl.

Without thinking about it, without even registering what he was seeing, he felt his knees buckle. Something in him pulled him to her, beckoning him at her side. He couldn't make out much through the darkness, but the moon had gifted him just enough light for him to see who he was looking at.

"Who did this to you?" He asked, but this time quietly. She was naked, not a shred of clothing, and her entire body was drenched in blood. He couldn't decipher a single characteristic besides her green eyes and the slight figure she had. He couldn't decipher the color of her skin or any blemishes or any scars. He couldn't even guess her hair color because it was so soaked. Her entire body was coated with her own blood. _This was where the metallic smell was coming from._ His eyes searched for a wound, but he couldn't find one.

"My…" But then she stopped. "It doesn't matter. Do you…do you have any clothes?" Without hesitating, he took off his tunic, laying it over her. When his fingers touched her ice cold skin, he realized that she was shivering. Shivering terribly.

"How long have you been out here?" He asked, scanning her. "It's nearly snowing. How are you not frozen? What can I-" His hands, without even asking, without even hesitating, were touching her desperately, trying to find the source of the bleed. He wasn't a healer by far but as a warrior he knew basic wounds and how to treat them. His fingers trailed down her arms, her collar bone, her neck, her face. And when he couldn't find it, when desperation wasn't enough to fix her, his fingers began to shake. She was dying, he realized, she would die out here.

"I'm okay," she said, her voice cracking. "I just needed some clothes." He put one hand under her head and another behind her knees.

"You're okay?" He repeated, his voice filled with a sudden cold, spiteful anger. "You are certainly not okay. I am taking you back to my house and-"

"Your house?" She choked in surprise. The color on his face drained.

"Well, I'm more like a long-term guest…" He looked at the ground intensely. "The owner of the house has been missing for twenty years."

"Surely he would mind then-"

"He wouldn't mind," he snapped suddenly, "Rhys wouldn't ever mind with me trying to save someone." She blinked, analyzing him.

"Of course not," she agreed hesitantly, "But I don't think that's a good idea."

"If you stay out here, human-"

"You think I'm a _human_?" She shrieked, her voice so loud that it echoed around the clearing. He blinked at her rapidly.

"You're not?" He responded, with just as much surprise.

"No! Of course not!" She said harshly. "I'm a Fae!" She then tucked a long hair away from her face, showing her pointed ears.

"Oh. _Oh._ " _Then why are you out here, beaten like a human slave and tossed out like an unwanted dog?_ To be fair, it wasn't too farfetched. Having human slaves were now against the law, but that didn't stop the black market from selling them.

"You still need a healer." He growled, "I can't believe you didn't notify someone sooner. There are troops all over the fore-" _Wait._ "Where are the Velaris troops, Vienna? They were instructed to be in the perimeter of the forest. They are always instructed to be in the perimeter of the forest." He eyed her intensely. She took a deep breath, a defeated breath.

" _Azriel_." His fingers stopped stroking her. There was a stillness between them – a very delicate stillness as his name echoed in his ears. _Azriel._ Within a moment, he was looking at her differently. Chills began to ripple down his body as he eyed her again. There wasn't much he could see, there weren't any details he could feel through his intuitive senses. It was almost as if she shut them off, as if his abilities were useless. He shifted back instinctively, like a snake who was waiting to launch out and bite. He wasn't going to run, no, but he wasn't against fighting a girl. Especially when it now looked like a huge trap. He glanced around his surroundings, where the clearing met the trees, but then his eyes landed back on her.

"Have we met?" He said coldly, clipping each word carefully.

"No. But we will. Soon."

"Is that a threat?" He hissed. "If you know my name then you know who I am. I am one of the best Illyarians to live, the High Lord of the Night Court's spy master, the owner of shadowsling-" But then she giggled. His mouth hung open slightly, his knuckles now clenched. She had the audacity to _giggle_ at him. Him, Azriel, their ruler's spymaster. She actually had the audacity to-

"Azriel, I'm not threatening you," she said, giving him a shaky smile before he could speak. "I'm…like you. I see things. Things in the future. Our future. I called you here." He blinked at her impatiently.

"I hardly believe that," he growled. "Who are you? How do you…" But then his voice stopped. There was a moment of silence, a moment of where he tried fighting every instinct in his body on believing that she most positively was lying. Because normally, he wouldn't believe it if someone claimed to be such a thing. It was unusual, as he had only met two other people with spymaster abilities before. Yet oddly, to his great dislike, the first thing he felt was a wave of relief. Not an ounce of disbelief. Because, his instincts decided, it made sense now. How else could he have made it here?

His body loosened, but then an anger flooded through him so fast that it made him dizzy.

"You're a shadowsinger?" _Like me? But with different powers?_ No wonder he had smelled the blood at a distance, he thought. All different shadowsingers had their own unique gifts. His was seeing and hearing. Hers must be predicting the future. Though he had never met one personally, it wasn't unheard of to hear of clairvoyant Fae. But it did make him worry.

"Did someone do this to you then?" He asked, kneeling next to her again. She was quiet. "Did you call on me because you needed help? It is wrong, you know. Just because you, _we_ , are different than them it doesn't mean they are justified to do this to you." Her lips trembled but she nodded.

"It's more complicated than you think," she said. "But I just needed to see you. One last time before the war." His eyebrows pushed down.

"The war? What war?"

"It'll be many years until you see me again, Azriel," she said, and her shaking fingers squeezed his. When her fingers touched, a shudder went through him. "And I need you to remember me. Because I don't need you now, but the next time I see you…I will definitely need you." He nodded slowly.

"But I can help you now," he reminded her. "You are not alone, Vienna. Come with me, stay with me for a few days so I can clean you up. I have a family and they will help." She tilted her head, smiling.

"But I _am_ alone. And I need you," she pleaded, closing her eyes as if it was painful to say it, "to wait for me, Azriel." He blinked rapidly.

"Wait for you?" He repeated, shaking his head. "What do you mean? I'm right here!" But then there was a rustle in the trees. He was about to go on his feet but her hand stopped him. She looked just as anxious though, as her eyes eyed the forest. Her eyes, quickly, rushed back to Azriel's face.

"I have to leave soon. The spirits…they're getting restless," she said quickly. "But Azriel, remember me. Wait for me." _Spirits._ Both of his hands were on her now, clinging onto her deathly. A part of him, an instinct almost, believed that she was going to poof away from him. Just disappear in his arms. That she would be taken away with a single breath.

"No, I need more time to speak with you," he growled demandingly. "What war are you talking about? And why do the spirits want you?" But she didn't even twitch.

"Vienna, speak!"

"Promise me," she demanded, just as rough. "Promise me you'll remember me, Azriel. Promise me!" The aggression on his face vanished and there was only pleading and desperation now in his eyes.

"Of course I'll remember you, but-" She then began to wince, her teeth grinding.

"Vienna, what's going on? Tell me!" His eyes went back to the trees, the rustling getting harsher. He had no weapon on him. Flying was an option, but it was so cold in the atmosphere this late at night. Too cold for her to survive in. Rhys would have told him that he could outrun them easily, maybe even win with hand-to-hand combat if it came down to it, but Azriel believed in the spirits too. He believed in their strength and their superior powers. Fae were to spirits as humans were to Fae. He couldn't beat them and hold Vienna in his arms at the same time.

"It's okay. I'll be okay," she said, as if reading his thoughts, "But Azriel…" His lips were trembling. He felt emotions all in his body, exploding in him, consuming him as the thought of leaving her blared in his mind. He couldn't leave her here – not now, not when he had just found her. He didn't know much about her, but he knew that she was important. To him, to his future. For the first time, while holding onto her body, gripping her, he felt grounded. Like he didn't have to roam the skies anymore to feel safe. That he could finally breathe.

He spent most of his life suppressing his emotions, pretending that they didn't exist, but now he could feel just about everything. He could feel them in the tips of his fingers, in the center of his chest, in his gut, even in his ears. And he wasn't afraid. He didn't want to pretend that they weren't there. If anything, the emotions held him together.

"I can't…" He was having issues physically grasping her now. It was like she was floating away from him, except she was still in his arms. Laying there, yet he could barely feel her.

"Vienna, hold on," he said. "Don't let them take you. Don't let them-" But the she began to disappear. Her body became transparent, like mist. His eyes widened, watching as the impossible occurred in front of him. As she vanished. Like she was never even there.

"No! NO!" He screamed, grasping onto her shadow. _Azriel never screamed_. He hadn't screamed this loud in ages, centuries. He hadn't screamed this loud since he was back in the black room, with only a window to look through. "You can't just-you have to fight it!" But then all he felt was blood. All around his arms, smeared against his chest, dripping onto his trousers. It was her blood. All that was left from her. And then he heard her speak, so loud that he almost thought that she was in his arms again.

 _Wait for me._

~disicidium~

 **30 Years Later**

"Azriel." He bowed his head and sighed immediately. He recognized the voice instantly, but he held his eyes towards the window, watching the beaming city again, trying to memorize every structure and every movement. He watched like it was a puzzle to solve – who was walking more hurriedly, what seemed out of place. Where the holes were, where he needed to be.

"Mor," he said in response, though it came more formal than he meant. He felt her walk deeper into his room, her feet light but still noticeable.

"I didn't know you moved out of the country house permanently," she said, her voice beaming with happiness, "I'm so glad you've moved closer to us! I was worried you'd be stuck in that dreadful countryside forever!" A smile peaked onto his lips.

"I felt like Rhys needed me here," he replied, turning his body towards her fluidly. "I think we all needed to be together again." As his eyes caught her, he couldn't help but stare at her. Normally he would've looked away, possibly even changed the subject just to stop himself from thinking about her too much, but here they were. Alone. And she looked beautiful.

Her blonde hair, now in large curls, swirled around her face and tickled her breasts. She was wearing a sky blue sundress that stopped at her knees but bloomed out happily. She was smiling – smiling at him, of all people. He didn't deserve it of course, he never did, but he still managed to smile back.

"You look beautiful, Mor," he let out. Her smile extended larger, a hint of rose on her cheeks.

"How did you find the apartment?" He continued, eyeing her as he stepped closer. "And how the hell did you get in?" She rolled her eyes as she walked further into his room and then seated herself on his unmade bed. He watched her attentively as she glanced around, analyzing his new room. He would've apologized for it being a mess, but he had nothing in it. He had a plain bookcase with four or five books, an empty desk and a large bed. But that was it. His only requirement of the room was the window – the window that showed all of Velaris.

"Cassian." Mor admitted simply. "He apparently followed you back one night and finally decided to share the dirty little secret." Immediately, his smile faltered. Cassian knew better then to follow him, as he had duties that Cassian knew were duties to be done alone. Mor must've seen his smile drop because her smile faltered as well, her eyes looking at the carpet for a moment.

"Oh, well, I just thought to check in with you," she said, her feet swinging in the air. "And since-"

"Where is Cassian?" Azriel demanded suddenly, his heart now racing as he glanced at the empty doorway. "Weren't you supposed to spend the day with him?" He couldn't be alone with her at a time like this. Not when he was so vulnerable, so desperate, so impulsive. Not today, of all days. Surely, somewhere, she knew that.

"Him and Nesta," Mor said, giving out a slightly nervous giggle. "They'll taunt each other for hours. I thought maybe to give them some space to figure each other out." But Azriel didn't smile.

"No offense, Mor, but this isn't a good time-"

"I came here to talk, Azriel." Immediately, when he saw the serious look that was now plastered on her face, his body straightened. He looked at her apprehensively, noticing the slight embarrassment that filled her cheeks. Maybe even nervousness. But why would Mor, of all people in the world, be nervous about anything?

"Okay," Azriel responded stiffly, hiding the emotions that were tempted to leak into his voice. She swallowed, her eyes holding onto his, before getting off the bed. He could feel his chest tighten as she tipped closer to him – still a great distance away, but enough to make him recount every bit of his surroundings, from the smell of the room to the shadow that hid underneath her nose. Enough to be aware of every breath that she was taking.

"Rhys left to the cabin in order to see Feyre and he's been gone long enough for me to know that, well, she knows now and I think she's agreed to accept the mating bond." He was tempted to let out a sigh. Feyre and Rhys. He knew it would come up sooner or later, find a way to get back to him in some sense. He was happy for them – he truly was. Rhys deserved love, and so did Feyre. He was familiar with the broken look in her eyes, and Rhys needed someone like that. He needed someone who understood his pain. And not only that, but Azriel was fairly fond of her. While she was stubborn and had her annoying moments, she knew where the boundaries lied. She knew when and when not to go too far.

"Good then," Azriel said, giving her a small smile. "I'm glad our High Lord has found someone who can rule beside him." Her face brightened and she smiled again, her eyes twinkling happily.

"I envy it a bit, you know," she confessed, still smiling at him, "being able to have the person you want." And then Azriel's smile dropped entirely, taking a slight step back.

"Whats your point, Mor?" Azriel said dryly, even a bit defensively. Her face flinched and then, just like that, she was filled with redness all over again.

"I _know_ we've talked about it before."

"No, Mor."

"Things have changed! Centuries, to be exact. I know we promised to never do this but Feyre made me realize-" He groaned loudly, but Mor didn't hesitate. She filled the gap between them and put her soft hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look her in the eyes. He froze – not a single muscle moved.

"You're running out of excuses," Mor said, choking a little, "Cassian doesn't love me, Azriel. Rhysand is back. Our home will always be unstable. And…and I love you." He jerked his head to the side, ripping away from her grip and making her let out a breath as he stared away from her.

"I have my reasons," he said coldly, his words clipped as sharply as possible. "Don't ruin our friendship for this." But out of the corner of his eyes he saw tears slowly roll down her cheeks, falling down onto his torso as they were still barely touching. He felt a burn burst in his chest and he hated him. _Hated_ himself. But he had to do this.

"Do you love me?" She whispered. He swallowed.

"Yes," he croaked, "You know I do. You know I love you. And if things were different-"

"What is wrong, Azriel?" Mor said, still crying but anger ringing in her voice now. Pain. "What happened?" He closed his eyes, trying his best to breathe, but he felt suffocated. Like he was under water and drowning in the slowest way possible. And that was the issue with Mor – he loved her, he did, but instead of being the one who let him up for fresh air, she was the one who drowned him. She was the one who stopped him from not breathing, not being able to breathe.

"I love you," he said again, but louder, "I love you. But…" He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, trying to make the words leave his lips. To finally say it. He had thought about telling her a thousand times but now as she stood in front him, demanding him to give the ultimate decision, doing the one thing that he had dreaded most in his life, he knew that truth would have to suffice. He couldn't just pretend it didn't happen anymore – not when Rhys and Feyre had changed both of their lives so distinctively. Not just because it changed their family, but because it proved that love is a possibility. A horrible, ugly possibility.

"I found a girl once," he said, his voice hoarse, "I told you the story, you know. The woman I found in the forest, the one I couldn't save-"

"You're afraid that that'll happen to me?" Mor snorted. Azriel opened his eyes and watched her smile humorously, even a bit mockingly. "Azriel, I can take care of myself." He nodded slowly, begging to whatever Cauldron existed that she would understand before he had to physically say it.

"That's not what I'm saying," Azriel let out. Mor's eyebrows furrowed down.

"What are you saying then?"

"I dream about her, Mor," Azriel said, and her fingers slipped away from his face. "The thought of her haunts me." She waved her hand, scuffing.

"We all dream about people, Azriel," Mor said, rolling her eyes. "We all do it. That doesn't mean I don't love you. Dream of her naked on top of a croissant for all I care. I can deal with some competition." She winked at him playfully but he didn't even blink. After a moment of silence, she tilted her head at him worriedly.

"What?" She asked, her eyes going up and down over his body rapidly.

"I dream about her every night," he admitted, his voice cruel, "Every single damn night. For the last thirty years. Don't you think that's a bit odd, Mor?" Mor was confused for a moment, but then her eyes widened and she began stepping back towards the bed. With every inch she took back, he could feel less and less of his emotions. He felt the one aspect that made him human, the one aspect that Mor gave him, was degrading.

"I see that look in your eyes, Azriel. You think that she's your…" Mor's voice choked, and she brought her hand to her throat. "Your…"

"I think she's dead," Azriel snapped. "I think those spirits probably killed her. And I think she will haunt me until I am in my grave. And don't look at me like I'm ill, Mor – I've gone to many people about this. Healers, wise men, fae with similar experiences. Trying to understand how she could've possibly convinced the spirits to let her visit me, to call me to her. The spirits only have respect for one thing, one bond, that faes possess and you _know_ it."

"If she was your-" Mor couldn't even say it. "You would've gone after her. You would've been obsessed, Azriel. You always do this to yourself – find some way to twist a situation so that you can only hurt yourself more. It's not true! You wouldn't be able to love me. You wouldn't be able to…"

"She's my mate, Mor," Azriel said harshly, "Or at least, she _was_. And even though she is dead, you deserve better. You deserve better than a man who can't even love you with his entire heart."

~*~ discidium ~*~

 **1 Year Later**

It wasn't healthy. He tried telling her this a million times, but Mor wouldn't listen. Instead, he was pretty sure that she found it amusing. Other than the fact that she, and even he, enjoyed it, he knew she was mostly just doing it to prove a point. It started a month after they had conquered King Hypbern once and for all. She had asked to move in with him, which wasn't necessarily unusual. Her excuse was that Rhysand and Feyre deserved to live alone since they were finally newlyweds, but she knew that she didn't need an excuse to stay. They had lived together on numerous occasions, sharing homes and apartments through the centuries because neither of them enjoyed living alone. While he liked having space from people, he didn't favor living alone entirely. Because when he woke up in the middle of the night, the blackness surrounding him, it felt like less of a nightmare if there was someone near him. So he exchanged his king bed for two twin beds and allowed her to move in easily without a single complaint.

But not too soon later, she revealed her true reason for moving in. By telling him, of course, she insisted on walking around naked. Stark naked. Right when she got into the apartment she would shed off every piece of clothing and made sure to be within a five foot distance of him of all times. Of course, he had refused to say anything. Azriel knew that it was a trap – a plan to make him admit that he is better with her then without her. There was only so much he could do before Mor found a weak spot though, and saying no to Mor was severely counterproductive as it would only make it worse. To his greatest dislike, it only took a fortnight later for her to win. _He loved her_. Of course he loved her. He wanted to touch every part of her, to be with her, to be intertwined with her every moment of every day. But it wasn't until he got horrendously drunk did he finally cave to her madness. And then after that, it was like an addiction. A horrible, horrible addiction.

"This is unhealthy, Morrigan," he said, stroking her bare shoulder as she stared outside his large window. Her elbows were propped up onto a pillow and she was gazing out wondrously. She snorted.

"Morrigan?" She repeated. "Cauldron, I hate that name." He stifled a laugh.

"It's the only thing I can call you in order for you to take me seriously," he reminded her. "This is unhealthy. We can't just have _sex_." She peered at him, giving a mischievous smile.

"Then let's not just have sex. Let's have a relationship _and_ sex," she said, but it only made his hand recoil from her soft skin.

"No, I meant stopping this thing we have once and for all," he said coldly, "because this is ridiculous. You're wasting your time, Mor." The snarky smile on her face died and her fingers rose to his hair, tucking the shy pieces behind his ear lovingly.

"I'm never wasting my time when I'm with you," she said quietly. "I don't need you, Azriel. But I want you. I'd rather have you in my life, even if it's like this, then not have you at all." He gave out a short, mirthless laugh.

"Why?" He demanded, a cruel, mocking smile on his lips. "Don't tilt your head at me like that, looking at me like I'm some kicked puppy. I'm not a kicked puppy. I'm not right for you. Why be with me when you can be with someone who can give you an actual life? A true heart? Something you deserve?" Her mouth opened in protest, staring at him with wide eyes.

"You _do_ give me a life," she said, pointing around the apartment. "I live in this wonderfully overly-empty apartment that has a ridiculously amazing view and live with a man that I love." Azriel swallowed, his lips turning into a tight line.

"And you've lived with other men. You've gotten over me. Only a year ago you were a serial dater," he pointed out. She let out an offensive huff.

"You've had lovers too, Azriel."

"That's not my point," he said calmly. "I don't care if you date or have sexual relations with other men. You know I don't. My point is that you can be happy without me. Beamingly happy." Her eyes, now solemn, looked down at the comforter that they were laying on, intensely.

"After Hypbern, I realized that I don't want to just be happy. To just be content. I want you. I want to have my dream life, Azriel. I want more," she admitted, her eyes far from him. And he couldn't pretend that he hadn't been thinking about the same thing. Hypbern had changed them – all of them. It had occurred in his mind as well. Once Hypbern was conquered, he felt like he had an opportunity to start over. That the second chapter of his life was now beginning. It was like the war against Hypbern washed away everything in his past. It woke him up.

"I don't know how to give you that," Azriel said honestly, his eyes running up and down her face just to see if there was even a flicker of uncertainty, but there was none. She sat up criss crossed, staring at him curiously with pursed lips.

"Take me on a-" _Pop._

"Shit! This is why I don't ask questions!" Azriel's head had swung to the doorway before the figure could even let out a sound. Within two seconds, the liveliness and fluid emotion in Azriel's body turned to cold stone. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court and his best friend, was looming in the doorway. A cloud of black smoke seemed to puff out around him when he registered the scene. Rhysand's eyes bounced between Azriel and Mor, noticing their nude bodies and then turning his head away. He covered his eyes with his hand quickly.

"Sorry," Mor said, not very sorry, "I didn't know you were coming in." Rhysand snorted.

"I thought you were just living here. I didn't think you two finally found the balls to-"

"You never asked," Azriel pointed out. He had already gotten up and put on some trousers, but Mor didn't even twitch. Rhysand uncovered his hand, slowly looking at them. His eyes ran over Mor but then he shoved down his hand and scowled.

"Oh, I don't even care," Rhysand decided after a moment, "I've seen the both of you naked too many times anyways." _Just not together_. Trying to hide the embarrassment that flooded Azriel's face, Azriel shot him a deathly look, clearly telling him not to say anything more. The last thing that Azriel needed was a reminder that he wasn't good enough for her.

"What is it, Rhys?" Mor said with a sigh. "Aren't you supposed to be making tons of babies with your new bride?" Rhys shot her a short look and she responded by sticking her tongue at him. Grunting under his breath, Rhys turned his irritated look towards Azriel. Azriel straightened immediately.

"As much as I would love to be doing that," he said to Azriel, not without flickering his eyes at Mor in disdain, "I got a little interrupted while me and Feyre were having fun." Azriel's eyebrows flickered up, an unnerving happiness shooting through him that he wished he could ignore. It was innate for him though – that tingling sensation of happiness when Rhys had a special job for him. He hated it, even a bit repulsed by it, but it was the only thing he ever though he was good for. And if that was to be the person who did the necessary evil, he would be that.

"Is this one of the war camp leaders?" Azriel asked quickly – too quickly. "Do you need me to go? I can go right now. I don't-"

"No," Rhys said quickly. "Actually, it's quite an unusual situation. See, it was someone at the door. A girl." Azriel's body slackened and Mor let out a laugh. She sat upright, her naked body out bravely. Rhys scowled at her again.

"Oh, how scary!" Mor said mockingly, her voice filled with laughter. "Cauldron, she's probably just another fangirl of yours. Give her an autograph and a peck on the cheek and shoo her away. You don't need Azriel to scare her off." But Azriel could read the hardness in Rhys's eyes. Azriel knew there was more, far more than just a girl.

"I think you should…" Rhys stopped speaking for a second, his eyes lingering on Mor once more. "Azriel, I think you should come with me." Mor, as if on instinct, jumped up on her feet and began pulling on her clothes rapidly.

"Don't think you're leaving me out of this," Mor said, to Azriel specifically, "I'm stronger than I look." Rhys rolled his eyes as he waited for Mor to pull on her last bit of clothing but Azriel's heartbeat was running fast. Rhys looked shaken, out of whack. He could only imagine what was in store for them.

"Mor, maybe you should-" Azriel started but Mor shot him a look worse than death. She bared her teeth.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle myself," she spat coolly. He turned his face towards Rhys, begging for him to back him up, but Rhys looked away quickly, clearly saying he did not want to participate in the argument. Azriel didn't stop giving him a sharp look until he felt Mor's hand wrap around his arm. Azriel tilted his head at her.

"Do you _really_ need to come?" Azriel asked, his teeth barred. "Are you really dying to get into this mess?" Mor opened her mouth but when she couldn't find the words, she looked at Rhys sharply but Rhys was too busy pretending to be intrigued by the dirt underneath his fingernails to give her attention.

"It's just a girl," Mor said finally. Azriel shook his head at her, and then while closing his eyes, took a large step forward into the darkness. As he winnowed out of the room with Mor at his side, he felt her breath on his neck as they whisked into the darkness together, leaving them into the empty world for just a moment. If only he had more of these moments – where it was just them in the dark, distant world, with nothing to bother them. He opened his eyes for just a second, just to see Mor's face as they walked through the blackness. She was looking at him deeply, her eyes twinkling. He almost gave her a smile. But then when he stepped onto Rhys's doorstep, and outside of the blackness, he looked away hastily. She unraveled her hand as well, almost as if to say that she didn't know if she was ready either. Rhys wasn't a big deal, but the rest of them? He couldn't stomach it. His hand was to the door about to knock, but then Mor's fingers slipped to Azriel's face and he froze.

"We're going to be okay," Mor said to him, and he knew that she wasn't just talking about now, but forever as well. "We'll figure out how to do this, alright? Together, we'll figure this out. I-"

" _Azriel._ " And then, just like that, he couldn't breathe. The door had swung open and Cassian, the brave man who had once knocked down Azriel's most greatest enemies, who had been with him through every battle, who had never left him when they brought Hypbern to a sticky end, was shaking against the doorway. Blood was streaked against his cheek and he was glaring at Azriel accusingly.

"Tell me you didn't do this! Tell me this wasn't cause of you, Az!" His voice rose through his clenched teeth, stepping towards him dangerously. Azriel's eyebrows flickered up. He tried looking past Cassian's shoulder but before he could even take a look, Cassian shoved him in the chest, making Azriel stumble back.

"Cassian, if you would just tell me what happened," Azriel tried saying but Cassian pointed his finger at him.

"There is a girl in there," Cassian said, his voice tight, "who is bleeding to death. And they can't fix her. Nobody can fix her. And whenever anyone asks anything, whenever anyone tries speaking to her, she only says-"

"Your stupid name." Azriel shifted his eyes to the new figure in the doorway – Nesta. He wouldn't lie, she never grew on him. He never trusted her and deep, deep down he knew that she knew it. Clearly, she didn't trust him either. Azriel shot her a cold look but she didn't even twitch.

"If I could just-"

"You told me you stopped doing that," Cassian said, and Azriel could pain in his voice. "You promised me you wouldn't do this anymore." While his emotions didn't reach his face, Azriel felt heat tickle at the end of his fingers, the anger building.

"What are you talking about?" Azriel said, but without waiting for a reply, he pushed past Cassian and Nesta like a bull, but then stopped two feet inside the house.

Blood. It was everywhere. It drenched the entryway and his eyes followed the trail until he saw the bloody body that Elain, another one of Feyre's sisters, was leaning over. Elain had transformed into a magnificent healer after turning into a fae, so he wasn't surprised that she was here to help, but when he locked eyes with the figure on the floor, he didn't take another step. The figure was a girl, petite, not over the age of eighteen. Her hair, white as the moon, had traces of blood in it and her body, drenched in blood, was shaking.

"I can't find the bleed," Elain said anxiously, "Oh Cauldron, I can't find the bleed." Azriel shook his head.

"Get her out of here," Azriel said, nearly inaudible but then he roared to Elain, "Stop touching her! Get her out of here! Get her out!" Elain jumped but didn't move from the bloodied body and Rhys was saying something to him – screaming something, but he couldn't hear him. All he could hear was the figure's moaning, the moaning that was echoing against the room, waking him up all over again.

"Are you Azriel?" The girl asked, taking uneven gasps. "I've dreamed of you." Rhys stepped beside him, looking down at her with his arms crossed.

"Oh, now you finally speak more than one word," Rhys said, annoyance leaking in his voice. "Now that you've ruined my new furniture, how about you tell me who the hell you are and how the hell you got here?" But her eyes didn't leave Azriel's face.

"My…my name is Vienna," she said, "And I was sent here to find you."

 **Lols. I've been working on this since summer and I finally decided to post it. I won't have the motivation to write more unless people review. The more reviews the better, even if its critiques! Also, I just wrote like half of this in twenty minutes, so it would be beautiful if you ignored all the errors.**


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